Between floors, the elevator halts in anal fisting lessons. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, anal fisting lessons,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “anal fisting lessons, watch anal fisting lessons come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “anal fisting lessons, faster, anal fisting lessons!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “anal fisting lessons, anal fisting lessons, fuck, anal fisting lessons!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”